Chapter 21
September 1547
"Your Majesty, I am pleased to announce that you are indeed with child." Mistress Greenwood nodded sagely, a smile softening her otherwise severe features as, examination complete, she straightened up to look me directly in the eye.
Protocol forbade it, but, given the circumstances, I let her conduct slide.
"When do you think I can expect the child, Mistress Greenwood?"
"It's not an exact science, Madam, but I should say that your babe will greet the world around May Day."
"Thank you." Passing the older woman a gold sovereign, I waved her away and called Mary Norris over, who hurried to my side in seconds.
"Yes, Madam?"
"Will you fetch my husband for me? I have some news that I wish to share with him."
"Gladly, My Lady."
With a quick curtsy, Mary turned and left my apartments.
A few minutes later, she was back and Edward's distinctive quick step was sounding in the passage outside.
I rose immediately, greeting him with a great beam of a smile. "Edward."
"Elizabeth. Mistress Norris said you wanted to see me?"
"Yes. I have some news for you."
"Good news or bad?"
"Well, for our people and the security of our throne, it's probably the best news I could give you."
Gently, I took my husband's hand and guided it to my belly, letting him explore the new contours of my body. He looked up at me, wonder shining in his eyes.
"Are you? Elizabeth, are you? Are you with child?"
"Praise God." I nodded.
"Elizabeth…" Edward collapsed to his knees beside me, unable to say another word. His hand lingered on my belly and I closed my eyes in bliss, content to be sharing such a momentous occasion with the man I loved.
At length, however, Edward's sudden and prolonged silence began to worry me. What if he wasn't ready to be a father? Princes and Princesses often married before they were truly out of childhood, yes, but not so the nobility. Or at least not their sons. Girls often married before they were my age – were sometimes mothers at my age – but there wasn't such pressure on men. Why, I could think of several of my father's courtiers who hadn't married before they were in their twenties at least. So Edward, at just seventeen, was still fairly young for his role. The role of Great Lord and Father of England. I only hoped he was comfortable with it.
"You are pleased, aren't you, Edward?" I glanced down as I spoke, unable to keep a slight tremor out of my voice. He started out of what seemed to be a trance and raised his head.
"Of course, Elizabeth. How could you think otherwise? It's just a shock, that's all. We're both still so young."
"Old enough." I retorted, sharpness creeping into my tone.
"That's not what I meant! It's just…the responsibility…"
"We're Queen and Lord of England! Do you really think we can escape responsibility?"
Perhaps I was a little harsher than I needed to be, but then I was only just coming to terms with the revelation of being a mother-to-be myself.
Edward rose abruptly. Striding to the door, he called "I'll see you at dinner," over his shoulder and then walked out, slamming the door behind him.
The new tension between Edward and me continued, unsettling me greatly. It was at times like this that I missed my sister desperately. She had always been the calmer one; the one who listened as I poured out all my dreams, hopes and fears.
Public life demanded my attention almost constantly, but whenever I could, I sought solace in writing to Blanche, telling her everything, as though she was still here at my side.
"We've made no public announcement of the fact, Blanche, but I'm sure people are beginning to guess. Even if they've missed the fact that I'm eating a lot more pork than usual, they can hardly fail to notice that Edward and I are barely speaking. People will wonder and then rumours will start flying, sister. I know that, perhaps better than anyone.
It hurts so much to see him walk past me with little more than a bow. I know he's young and insecure; that he'll come round in time, but it still hurts.
What would you do, darling? If you were here and Queen of England in my place, what would you do? I wish you would write and tell me. Anne does what she can, but she's neither my sister nor my mother. There are times when simply no one else will do. This is one of those times.
Anyway, I hope that everything is going as you would wish in Dublin and that you are all well. Give my love to Jess and Nora and may God keep you, little sister. Write soon and remember, Omnia vincit Amor et Justitia.
Thy beloved sister,
Elizabeth.
Laying down my pen, I scattered sand on the page to dry the ink and then heated some scarlet wax in order to seal it with my usual stamp of a rose.
Folding it over, I sealed the missive and then summoned a page, firmly instructing him to make sure that the letter reached my sister's eyes untouched; reached her eyes only.
Then I called my ladies to ready me for bed, knowing with a desperate bitter ache deep inside me that Edward would not be coming to visit me tonight. I had hurt him too deeply for that.
One morning that November, I was woken by Lady Lucy shaking me.
"Your Majesty! You're needed in the Council Chamber for a matter of urgency."
"Very well, Lady Lucy, I'm coming."
Swinging out of bed despite the swell of my belly, I pulled on a thick fur wrap against the November chill and allowed Lady Lucy to braid up my hair in order to lend me at least a veneer of respectability.
"Has anyone told my husband yet?"
Yes, Madam. His Highness knows. He is in fact the one who persuaded the Privy Councillors to send for you at all. He said that, carrying his child or not, you would wish to know."
My jaw clenched at the thought of Edward finding anything out before me, but then I shook my head to clear it of such thoughts. His finding out first was proof, in a way, that the nobles fully accepted him as Great Lord of England; as my consort. Wasn't that what I had always wanted? Angry and hurt because of the way he had treated me recently or not, if I truly loved him, I would still rejoice in what this meant. But I had no time to think about that now.
Hurrying from the room, I swept all the bowing and curtsying servants aside to ensure that I entered the Privy Council Chamber alone.
As Lady Lucy had said he would be, Edward was already there. I nodded at him as I sat down in the specially crafted cushioned carved chair at his side and he offered me a tentative smile in return.
"What's going on?"
"We've just received an urgent missive from our envoy at the French Court. It seems Queen Catherine has died of childbed fever."
Edward's voice was low and, despite himself, he couldn't help glancing at the gentle contours of my rapidly swelling belly. I was three months pregnant by now and every man and woman in the room was fully aware of that.
I wanted to reach out and reassure Edward that I would be fine, but between the fact that we were in public and that I didn't know how he would react, I settled instead for resting a hand on my belly as I murmured "God rest her soul."
Because I was genuinely curious, I then asked "Forgive me, but does that not leave King Henri a widower with two young children?"
"As a matter of fact, he has three, Your Majesty. Though Her Majesty Queen Catherine fell prey to the perils of childbirth, her infant daughter, the Princess Claude, still lives."
"Thanks be to God. It gladdens my heart to hear that at least." I crossed myself quickly, then, trying desperately to get my sleep-clogged brain to work, turned to my father in law and Chancellor, hoping I could think of the best thing to do.
"You'll convey our condolences to King Henri and assure him of our friendship throughout this difficult time, is that clear?"
"Very good, Madam." My father in law bowed and I, suddenly unable to face a full Council meeting now, waved the others away. As they left, Edward glanced at me.
"Elizabeth. May I have a word?"
"Of course." I rose from my throne as he offered me his arm and led me from the room.
We only made as far as the nearest window embrasure, however, before he stopped in his tracks, though he made no move to remove my hand from his arm, inadvertently thrilling me with the warmth of his skin.
"Elizabeth, I owe you an apology."
"What for?"
Drawing back from him, I determinedly kept my voice cool. I was no fool. I knew full well why Edward owed me an apology. I just wanted to hear it from his lips and not mine.
"I've been behaving like a brat. I've let you cope with the demands of the country and your own current condition on your own. I shouldn't have done that. Nor should I have been so cool towards you recently. You haven't said anything, but I know I've hurt you by it. I've hurt you when I should be protecting you from harm and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it and I'm sorry."
It's taken you a while to admit it," I retorted, voice acidic even to my own ears.
"I know. Mary took me to task over my behaviour weeks ago, when she first realised you were with child, but I just didn't know how to make it up to you. Then, when this news came from France…"
"They came to you first." A note of resentment crept into my voice. I couldn't help it. I might be a woman, but I was a Queen and a Tudor Queen of England at that. I was the daughter of Great Harry of England and his perfect jewel of womanhood. Surely I deserved to know of such momentous news at least at the same time as my husband?
"Yes. They did." Edward confessed. "But no more, Elizabeth. I swear it. I'll tell them that they must always come to us both from now on. Both of us. Never one before the other. No matter what condition you're in."
Edward reached out to place his hands on my shoulders and, if I didn't relax under his touch, neither did I pull away.
Which is how we actually came to be in each other's presence when I felt the first flutter of movement from my child. A flutter as delicate as a butterfly's wings.
My lips parted in a joyful gasp and a slow beam of a smile spread over my lips as the full realisation of what had just happened began to sink in.
"What is it? Elizabeth, what is it?"
"He moved! Edward, our Prince just moved! He's alive! He's alive in me!"
"Are you sure you're not just imagining things? Three months is awfully early to feel him."
"I know what I felt!" I retorted. "Here."
Taking Edward's hand, I rested it on my belly. It lingered there for a few moments and Edward was about to pull away disbelievingly, when it happened again. My child, as though determined to prove its existence to its father, kicked again.
From the look on Edward's face, I knew he had felt it. Our eyes met, both pairs blazing with sheer naked joy.
"He's early!" I breathed, scarcely able to speak.
"He's strong. A strong Tudor Prince."
"Tudor-Brandon." I corrected. It was the first time I had spoken our future child's surname aloud and the expression on Edward's face as the true implications of my words sank in was more than worth it.
"Elizabeth..." he started, before realising that mere words weren't enough.
Catching me around the waist, he pulled me to him and swept me up into his arms, crushing his lips to mine in a deeply passionate kiss.
I straddled his hips with my legs and let him bear me away, giggling as though I was a little girl again. I couldn't help it. Our reconciliation was just so perfect.